


To Make a Claim

by spn_wincest_etc (babybrotherdean)



Series: Prompt Fills [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Sam, Dean's jealous because pretty girls like to hit on Sam, Dom/sub Undertones, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Possessive Dean Winchester, Top Dean, but he knows for a fact who his brother really belongs to
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-15
Updated: 2015-02-15
Packaged: 2018-03-12 23:07:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3358691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babybrotherdean/pseuds/spn_wincest_etc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Y’know, I can’t really blame her for wanting you." Dean slants a glance up at his brother, then ducks down, hovering over Sam, starts mouthing over his pulse point. He sucks at the skin lightly, more a tease than something with intent to mark, smiles when Sam makes a noise. He pulls away a moment later, licks his lips when he meets his brother’s eyes.</p><p>"She’s not the only one, after all." He goes back to work, then, nips lightly at the delicate skin of Sam’s throat before continuing downwards. He doesn’t need to look up to know what Sam’s about to do. "Hold onto the headboard. Don’t move."</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Make a Claim

**Author's Note:**

> _Dean fucking sam hard and long after teasing him until he can barely take it and is begging dean to give it to him_
> 
>  
> 
> This one was also from an anon, so thank you, anon! :D

Dean’s always been a little impulsive. He makes snap decisions and judgments, thinks on his feet, doesn’t spend time worrying about consequences until they matter in the here and now. He lives life fast and furious, and his relationship with his little brother is usually just the same.

They don’t spend time teasing and tasting after a hunt, where they’re running on adrenaline and fear and need. It’s usually fast and hard, a race to get their fill of each other but keep it as quick as possible.

Usually, Dean’s happy with that. He’s content with taking it or giving it hard and fast, slumping down sated and worn afterwards to fall asleep with Sam. 

This is different, though, the exception that proves the rule, the one circumstance when speeding through it just isn’t good enough. 

Dean’s never been shy about showing just how possessive he is over his baby brother. When people look a second too long or stand too close or have some kind of vibe that they might even _consider_ touching Sam, he tends to step closer, to throw an arm around Sam’s shoulders (when they’re sitting, anyways; it’s been ages since he could do that comfortably while they’re both standing up) or just give the offender a good ol’-fashioned _back off_ glare.

Most of the time, it works. But this one girl, back at the bar, some local dive that didn’t even know what top-shelf liquor was, had been so damn _persistent_ , slid in as close as the bar stools allowed and set her hands on Sam’s arm, his thigh.

And damn, but Dean couldn’t bring himself to be rude to her. Sam hadn’t looked uncomfortable, exactly, mostly just a little amused but otherwise receptive. He’d done nothing to return her advances and eventually she’d given off, stalking off to find an easier conquest, Dean’s sure.

As soon as she turns her back, though, Dean’s standing, grabs Sam’s arm and tugs him along. “We’re leaving.”

It’s not a question, and apparently Sam picks up on that, because he doesn’t try to slow them down, doesn’t say anything, actually, until they’ve made it back to the motel room, barely a two minute walk from the bar.

Once they get there, though, he speaks up, sounds almost guilty. “I didn’t want to be a dick, Dean, she was just-“

"Shut up." There’s no venom in Dean’s voice, even as he locks the door behind them, turns to back Sam towards their bed. "I’m not mad at you."

It’s the truth, too. He can’t blame Sam for something like this, can’t even fathom getting angry at him for something so trivial. 

"Clothes." It’s more a command than a request, and Sam scrambles to comply. As much as he likes topping, Dean knows for a fact that his brother’s got a thing for just taking orders like this, now and again. Maybe it’s a complex from their childhood. He isn’t bothered enough to think about that too hard.

Sam’s naked within a few seconds, a certain practised ease to his movements as he sits down in bed, licks his lips and stays quiet for the moment. Dean decides it’s more than enough invitation, and he strips down, just takes in his his brother looks for a moment.

"Lie down." The words are no louder than a murmur, and Sam doesn’t break eye contact while he complies. He spreads his legs without being told, and Dean smiles, moves to get up on the bed as well.

"Y’know, I can’t really blame her for wanting you." Dean slants a glance up at his brother, then ducks down, hovering over Sam, starts mouthing over his pulse point. He sucks at the skin lightly, more a tease than something with intent to mark, smiles when Sam makes a noise. He pulls away a moment later, licks his lips when he meets his brother’s eyes.

"She’s not the only one, after all." He goes back to work, then, nips lightly at the delicate skin of Sam’s throat before continuing downwards. He doesn’t need to look up to know what Sam’s about to do. "Hold onto the headboard. Don’t move."

There’s a soft sound of almost-protest, but Sam complies. Dean hides a smile.

"Good boy."

Dean gets his hands into the action, then, smooths them down Sam’s sides, as low as his hips before making their way up over Sam’s stomach. He can feel the muscles fluttering under his touch and he huffs a soft laugh against Sam’s skin.

"But it doesn’t matter how many people want you, does it, Sammy?" Dean whispers the words into the curve of his brother’s shoulder, pauses there to bite down and suck a proper bruise into place, right at the junction where it meets his neck. Sam’s breath hitches, and he tilts his head a little bit. Dean rewards him with a gentle kiss over the reddening spot when he’s done, glances up at him again.

"Because you’re never going to be like this for anyone except me, are you?" It’s not as much a question as it is a statement of fact that they both understand. Being secure in the knowledge that his brother completely, one hundred-percent belongs to him in this way- in every way, ever since baby Sammy was pushed into his arms all those years ago, a lifetime ago- makes it so much easier to be like this, to just have each other. And it’s obvious that he’s not the only one who enjoys it.

"Just you, Dean. No one but you." Sam sounds a little breathless, but there’s no doubt in his voice, not a fraction of a second of hesitation. As always, the confirmation warms Dean a little, and he can’t resist leaning in and pressing their lips together, hard and deep and quick.

"I know," he murmurs into his brother’s mouth, then goes back to work.

After years of being like this, being together in every sense of the word, Dean’s had a little time to become extremely well-versed in Sam’s body. He knows the exact sound Sam will make when he brings one hand up to tweak and pinch at his brother’s nipples, knows just how hard he’ll buck his hips when Dean kisses down the length of his arm and lingers at the inside of his elbow. He knows just how to get Sam worked up, to push him and push him and push a little farther, to push him right to the edge of his ability to function.

Dean does all this without one touching Sam’s straining cock, and he can tell when his brother’s starting to get a little desperate. 

Dean’s been kissing and biting his way down the length of Sam’s body, starts on his chest and makes stops at each nipple, down some more before pausing at his navel, swirls his tongue in the little dip. Sam’s squirming underneath him, and when Dean looks up, his hands are white-knuckled where he’s gripping the headboard. 

"Dean." Sam’s voice is bordering on a whine, and Dean grins. "Dean, c’mon."

"C’mon, what?" Dean asks, completely innocent as he moves down even farther. He nudges Sam’s legs apart and makes himself a space in between, then ducks down to press butterfly kisses along the inside of Sam’s thighs.

His brother honest-to-God _whimpers_ , and Dean barely has time to think _mission accomplished_ before he’s speaking. “Please, Dean, I just-” He swallows hard, seems to try to get some control over himself. He doesn’t look very successful. “Fuck me. Please, I’m all yours, just- fuck, need it so _bad_ , De.”

That’s when Dean really knows he’s won; that nickname almost never comes out, and hearing it now just tells him how far-gone Sam really is. He’s never been one to deny his brother anything- especially not when he asks to pretty like this- so he sits up slowly, smiles before leaning in to kiss Sam again, longer this time.

"Whatever you want, baby boy," he whispers against Sam’s lips, then pulls away. He leans over the side of the bed, enough to grab his duffle and yank it closer until he finds the lube he keeps inside.

"Need this so bad, don’t you?" Dean murmurs as he sits up again, settles between Sam’s legs. "Didn’t want that girl, not even for a second. She doesn’t know how to give you what you need, does she?"

Sam shakes his head adamantly, like the faster he replies, the sooner he’ll get what he wants. “Just you, Dean. No one else.”

Dean smiles, takes a moment to squirt some lube into his hand, spread it over his fingers. “I know.” 

He slides the first finger in without meeting any resistance, hums his approval. “Take it so good for me, don’t you?”

Sam barely manages a nod, eyes half-lidded and lips parted as he rocks his hips down. “More,” he whispers.

"If you insist." Dean laughs softly at Sam’s apparent eagerness and continues, slips in a second finger soon after. He scissors them apart slowly, carefully, watches Sam’s face for any signs of discomfort, just like always- but either his brother’s too used to it to be bothered or he’s just too into it to care, moaning as Dean works his fingers in deeper.

"That’s it," Dean murmurs, watches Sam with adoration. "Take it, Sammy, just like that."

Sam starts getting impatient soon enough, though, gives Dean a pleading look. He doesn’t say anything, just spreads his legs farther apart, grabs the backs of his knees to give Dean better access.

Dean grins, but complies, works another finger inside. “Love it when you get desperate like this,” he murmurs. “Seein’ you come all apart for me. Sexy as hell.” He crooks his fingers, then, finds that slightly softer spot that has Sam all but writhing on his fingers, letting out a low whine.

"Dean," Sam says, and he sounds absolutely wrecked. "Dean, please.”

"We’ll get there," Dean promises, ducks down to press a kiss to Sam’s stomach. He spends some time massaging Sam’s prostate in tight circles, works his fingertips into it gently until Sam’s barely coherent anymore, gasping and grinding down on Dean’s fingers, letting out breathless moans, as best he can beg at the moment, and then it’s Dean who decides that he can’t wait any more.

"I’ve got you," he murmurs. "Don’t worry, Sammy, gonna take care of you." He pulls his fingers out slowly, slicks up his cock. He lines himself up, doesn’t hesitate before sliding into place, has to press his face into the crook of Sam’s neck to stifle a moan.

Sam’s gone still underneath him, but he’s still relaxed, shifts until he can hook his legs up around Dean’s waist and pulls them closer together. When Dean doesn’t move, he takes the initiative himself, rolls his hips and lets out a soft groan. “Finally,” he mumbles, eyes closed.

Dean can’t help but smile a little, lifts his head until he can see Sam again. “Feels good, right?”

Sam nods a little bit. “S’good. You- can you move? M’ready.”

"Yeah." Dean nods a little bit, then starts up a steady pack, rocking his hips back and then forward. He doesn’t rush things for once, keeps it slow and smooth. He’s just taking the time to appreciate this, to feel the way Sam clenches around him, hold onto him tight, to listen to the sounds he’s making. 

Sam’s moving, too, rocking back to meet each of Dean’s thrusts, to get him that little bit deeper. He’s not holding the headboard anymore, his arms wrapped tight around Dean’s torso to keep him close. It’s a slow, dirty grind, and Dean’s not sure when their lips meet, but then they’re kissing, tasting, claiming each other the way no one else every could.

Dean can tell when Sam’s getting close, can hear the way his brother’s breathing changes. “Dean,” he whispers, “m’almost there, De, c’mon, _please_.”

Dean nods tightly, presses their foreheads together and speeds up a little bit. “C’mon, Sammy,” he breathes, their lips barely pressing together. “C’mon.”

He gets a hand down between them, barely has to touch Sam’s cock before he’s crying out, arching up into Dean and clinging to him as he spills between them.

Dean manages another few thrust, out, back in, and then it’s too much and he’s coming right after, stifling his moan when he kisses his brother again, hard and deep.

He stays buried deep while them both work their way through their orgasms, breathing each other’s air and just staying pressed close. Eventually, Dean pulls out, slow and careful, presses a couple idle kisses to Sam’s cheeks before he slides out of bed, heads for the bathroom.

He returns with a warm cloth, gently wipes Sam down before crawling into bed with him, getting the covers up around their shoulders. He tucks himself into his brother’s side and closes his eyes.

"Don’t like seein’ people hit on you," he mumbles. "You’re mine."

"Yeah." Dean can hear the smile in Sam’s voice as he wraps his arms around him. "All yours, De. And you’re mine."

Dean smiles, nods a little bit. “Night, kiddo.”

"Night, Dean." Dean feels the brush of lips against his forehead before he drifts off, warm and content.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! If you're interested in fic requests, hit me up at allywriteswords.tumblr.com. :D


End file.
